


Hell, Yeah

by lawsofman



Series: We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Brothers- [3]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Blood, Comfort, Death, F/M, WWII, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23346949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawsofman/pseuds/lawsofman
Summary: Eugene Jackson was too young to go to war, and he was too young to die. Reader has a hard time dealing his death.
Relationships: Joseph Liebgott/Original Female Character(s), Joseph Liebgott/Reader
Series: We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Brothers- [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676491
Kudos: 12





	Hell, Yeah

**Author's Note:**

> mama i love ross mccall. this has some angst and comfort with our favorite smartass. i was listening to hell, yeah by nothing but thieves when i wrote this. enjoy!

**_they call it hell, yeah  
why don’t we go there?  
it’s better than nowhere  
it’s just like home  
it’s just like home  
it’s just like home_ **

I could hear the screaming and the shouting from the building’s basement as I ran behind Sergeant Martin, my legs moving as fast as they could as we ran down the stairs. I pushed men out of my way and made it to a writhing private Jackson. 

“Eugene! Eugene, I got you. Take it easy,” I tried to soothe over the clear panic and chaos as I checked Jackson’s pupils. I held his head steady, trying to assess the damage. “Give me some fucking room!” I shouted to the men that hovered as the building shook from another round of artillery shells. All but Webb took a few steps back. 

Lieutenant Jones watched on as he tried to restore order amongst the men. “I need you to hold still, Eugene. Can you do that for me?” I tried to get his attention, but the chaos in the room was making it incredibly difficult. 

The fear in Eugene Jackson’s eyes struck me to my core as they pleaded with me as if I were God himself. Jackson’s hyperventilating breaths calmed down to a gasp as I spoke to him, his legs stopped kicking. The panic in the room died down to a murmur, much to my relief. Webb still had a hold on Eugene’s arm in case he lashed out. 

I brought my hand to Eugene’s mouth, holding his lower jaw down as he choked. I peered inside to make sure nothing was lodged in his throat. 

“Give me a light!” I said to no one in particular. “Someone give me a light,” Someone brought a lighter to Jackson’s eyes. “Look at the light, Eugene. I need you to look at the light for me, alright?” He made another godawful gasping noise, but he focused on that while I held his mouth still. Eugene Jackson sobbed as everyone held on baited breath. 

I nodded to myself, not seeing that he was mortally injured and deemed him safe to get to a hospital. 

“Alright, let’s get him outta here,” Men moved around me quickly, Spina and Roe ran to pick the injured soldier up for transport.

“I don’t want to die!” Jackson sobbed, and somehow that was always worse than when the men just died while I worked on them. Hearing the crying and the screaming was just worse. 

The men moved him to a stretcher as I held gauze to his face as he repeated it over and over. 

“Help me! I don’t want to die!” A mortar hit particularly close to the building we were in and it caused the men to lower Jackson’s stretcher to the floor. Dust rained down over everyone as he continued to scream. Mid-sob he started choking again and as I held onto him, he started having a fit. 

“Jackson!” I shouted as he convulsed. A sob came through the fit as two men held his kicking legs down. I held his head as still as I could as he thrashed. “You’re not gonna die! You’re not gonna die! I need you to hang on!” I shouted through the raging battle outside. His head flew back, his chest popping upwards. There was a sickening gurgling from Eugene Jackson’s throat and then he was just...gone. 

“Jackson!” I screamed, trying to clear his airway of the blood that rose up. “Jackson, don’t you fucking do this! Don’t do this!” I was panicking as his body went completely slack, his eyes rolling. “Eugene!” Blood covered my hands as I tried digging in his mouth once more, tilting his head this way and that, anything that could possibly help resuscitate the young man. 

A light hand, Roe’s, landed on my shoulder as I fell back from my knees onto the floor. My bloody hands reached up to my helmet, and in a moment of morbid clarity, I removed it. 

Everyone was silent as I looked around the room. I looked to Babe and shook my head. The absolute terror in his face was heartbreaking. He turned to the rest of the men who had migrated to the other end of the room when I had demanded space, and shook his head. 

Martin came over, blanket in hand, and I bit my lip to keep my emotions in check while he payed the blanket over Eugene’s lifeless body. 

* * *

I sat in that basement until the sun came up and the mortars stopped, my eyes rarely leaving the stretcher with the blanket over it. Hagenau had been a nightmare from the second we stepped foot in that godforsaken town. The Germans were relentless from across the river, but by the time the sun rose, there was silence from both sides. 

With my helmet back on my head and my rifle in my hands, I quickly made my way back to the barracks where we were stationed. The platoon was resting in the bunks or talking in a small group as I entered. All conversation stopped when I entered.

“Y/N,” I gave Sergeant Malarkey a quick nod. 

“Sir,” I went to my bunk and cut a strip of cloth from the blanket with my pocketknife and moved back out of the room and down the stairs to find solitude somewhere in the shelled out house. 

Heavy boots followed behind me, but I continued on until I got to the kitchen. I threw my helmet onto the counter top and poured water from my canteen into it, and soaked the strip of cloth. 

Wringing the cloth out, I held it to my face and sighed, letting my head tilt back just slightly to relive the tension in my neck. The cold water felt good in my skin and I just stood there, breathing into the fabric to calm my nerves. 

After a few moments, I wiped my face of the dust that accumulated on me from the basement and tossed it away. Next, my stiff hands dipped into my helmet. 

“What?” I called over my shoulder, voice cracking, to see Joe Liebgott standing in the archway with his arms crossed. He just shrugged nonchalantly and shook his head. 

“Nothing. Just making sure you’re okay,” He brought a hand up to rub behind his neck. 

“I’m fine,” I kept my responses short, hoping he’d get a clue that I didn’t want to be around anyone. I picked at the chunks under my nails, the action making an awful wet clicking sound. Joe let it go on for a few more moments before he intervened. 

“Come on, Y/N/N, ease up. Take a break,” Joe’s voice was the only other sound in the room other than the splashing of water from the bowl I was washing my hands in. 

“I don’t need it,” I spat back, focused on the nearly black dried blood that caked under my nails. 

“Well ya look like ya need it,” Joe stepped forward and stopped my hands from their incessant scrubbing. I pulled away violently, throwing the helmet of water to the floor with a clash as I yanked my arms away. 

“Get off my fucking back!” I shouted at him, lashing out. Joe Liebgott’s dark eyes stared back at me with surprise. My chest heaved as if I had just ran a marathon. My right eye twitched as I looked at the hurt expression cross his face. “I came in here because I wanted space, so give me my _fucking_ space, Joe. If I wanted someone up my ass, I would’ve stayed upstairs.” I knew I wasn’t being fair to him, and by the flair of his nostrils -he knew too. 

“You didn’t get enough space in that fucking basement all night? Until Sergeant Martin came back, no one knew where you were!” He took a deep breath and pointed at me. “I know you’re pissed off with the higher ups, but don’t take that out on me, alright! Webb told us what happened with Jackson and I’m sorry, okay! I’m sorry!” Joe yelled right back. I felt my jaw clench painfully. Joe’s cheeks were flushed with anger and frustration, but his eye contact never wavered. “You can’t save everyone-” He started to explain slowly, but I was quick to cut him off.

“He was a fucking kid, Joe. Did you know that? A fucking _kid_.” I leaned against the ledge of the countertop and crossed my arms over my chest. “He weaseled his way into Toccoa when he was _sixteen years old_. Forged all of his documents. A fucking sixteen year old running _Currahee_ and _jumping out of planes_. And now he’s dead -a whole twenty years old- in a basement in Hagenau while his family gets a letter saying that he died a hero in combat. He died begging and sobbing -pleading- for me to not let him die while half of his face was falling off because of his own goddamned grenade.” I let a beat pass before continuing as Joe listened. “He didn’t die a hero, Joe. None of us do. A life wasted is what it is, and while his family may not ever know it,” I tapped my chest with my index finger, “I will. And it will stay with me, just like all the rest of them do.” 

Joe bit his lip as he looked down at me. He blinked a few times before taking another deep breath. 

“You did what you could.” I shook my head, a frown heavyset on my features. “You always do,”

“No, _I_ should’ve been there. _Roe_ should’ve been there. _Spina_ should’ve been there. Any one of us should’ve been there and we _weren’t,_ Joe. If we were, he would’ve had a chance.” The fight had left me and Joe saw it. He took a few tentative steps towards me, testing the waters by placing his hands on my biceps. When I didn’t react, he pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding me tight. 

The shakes that I thought left me the night before, reared their ugly head once more and I trembled in anger, frustration, rage, and most of all -heartache. 

“Let it out,” Joe whispered into the top of my head as tried holding the tears in. “Come on,” He coaxed, rubbing my back with a soothing hand. His cheek was nestled onto my scalp, so innocently intimate that it allowed me to let the tears loose. 

My arms wrapped around Joe’s waist as I cried silently into his chest. 


End file.
